


Nate and Nora take The Commonwealth

by eomerking



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon What Canon, F/M, Gen, i don't know where this is going I'm just here for the ride, kelloggs suddenly a shitty shot, nate and nora survived the vault, so far theres an awful lot of angst, un-beta'd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9184114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eomerking/pseuds/eomerking
Summary: In which Kellogg shoots from the hip instead of aiming, and suddenly the Commonwealth has two Frozen TV Dinners hellbent on finding their son.He's never made such a bad mistake.





	1. goddamn vault-tec

**Author's Note:**

> (i apologise for any mistakes/errors within)  
> ((un-beta'd))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this thing spawned bc i when i first played fallout i didn't know that your spouse died, and after spending as much time on nate as i did on nora i was understandably heartbroken lmao

Nora has always held her anger in her chest, crushing her ribs into her lungs, stuttering her breath and shaking her shoulders. It curdles the spit in her mouth, makes it sour and bitter. Her lips curl into a snarl and her nostrils flare; teeth grinding until she can lash out.

But this time there's nothing to lash out at, only the frosted glass in front of her. Thick and cold and unbreakable, no matter how hard she pounds her fist against it. She can’t move enough to pull her arm back, so her hand slams weakly against the window, wedding ring _scratching_ against the glass. She can feel the skin, stretched white across her knuckles, breaking and bleeding, and it leaves short smears of blood across the glass.

She can’t _move_ inside this goddamn _fucking_ pod.

She can hear her baby crying – Shaun isn’t a crier, never has been. But as he’s ripped from his father’s hands, Shaun sobs. Nora is crying to, tears freezing to her cheeks and blurring her vision. Even through the foggy window Nora can see the tears in her husband’s eyes as he tried _desperately_ to keep hold of their son; but Nate is slow, still half-frozen like she is, and his numb fingers can’t keep hold of the pale blanket their son is wrapped in.

Nora register’s the scarred man’s gun before Nate does, and while she’s been shouting this whole time, now she _screams_. But Nate can’t hear her, Nora doesn’t even know if he can _see_ her through the window of the pod.

For fucks sake, these were supposed to be decontamination pods. She’d never signed up to have her whole family fucking _frozen_.

She’s still screaming when the gun goes off, an endless stream of words that go nowhere apart from her own ears. Nate reels back, a dark red flower blooming across the front of his brand new vault suit.

Outside, the scarred man looks in at her, contemplative, and that only enrages Nora further. She gives up with her fists, wrapping her bloodied hands around the handles inside the pod and using her feet instead, _slamming_ with everything she has. Her boots make the whole pod shudder, and she can feel the reverberations up her legs, into her spine, her hands, her teeth. Her screams are now wordless, animalistic snarls of rage.

In the distance a klaxon is blaring, an automated voice warning about procedures and evacuation points, and then a new voice chimes in as a woman in a hazmat suit reseals Nate’s pod, shoving him back inside it.

Nora can barely see through the frost on her eyelashes. She’s shivering now instead of shaking, and her slamming is getting weaker. She can feel the cold creeping back up on her – slower than the flash freeze the first time.

Shaun is still crying, and Nora tries to keep her eyes on her baby, but across from her her husband is bleeding out, and her fingers and turning blue and there’s just been a goddamn nuclear _explosion_. Her foot slips against the glass and Nora falls, hands streaking blood down the window.

And then she freezes.

* * *

 

Nora knows what she needs to find, but not where to find it. As she wipes the remnants of a giant cockroach from her face, Nora tries to think clearly.

It’s difficult to order her thoughts when so much has happened in such little time. Even her years in the army couldn’t prepare for such a steady, constant stream of bullshit happening to her.

But she knows what she needs to find, what she needs to do.

In the neat, minimalist dormitories that the Vault had for it’s employees, Nora starts kicking the lids off foot lockers. She searches them quickly, roughly, uncaring of the personal items she scatters on the floor. Her fingers are close to blue and she is shivering; soaking wet from the defrosting. The scabs on her knuckles burst ages ago.

There is nothing in the footlockers but knick-knacks and clothes, magazines and books. A small locked tin sits at the bottom of one, and Nora barely blinks before she hurls it to the floor, cracking the flimsy padlock. There’s nothing in there but photos. The wall lockers hold nothing but the same, useless stuff, all abandoned an indeterminable time ago.

Nora tries very hard not to think about the passage of time – how long she could have been trapped in that pod while the would went to a radioactive shit-heap outside. The fucking cockroaches are massive.

She doesn’t want to think about how big other bugs have gotten.

In the bathroom Nora slips on the water that’s streaming from her sodden vault suit, wincing as she braces herself on a doorframe. One of the giant roaches had bitten her, and her palm stings. She wipes the blood from it down the side of her leg, wincing again when her hand catches on a stray bit of cockroach chitin.

Shaking her hand out, Nora casts her eyes about, still searching. She nearly yells when she spots a first-aid kit.

It’s big – not one of the little wall mounted capsules, but a whole box of chems and bandages. Three sealed Stimpaks. Half a dozen Med-X. A whole tin of Mentats.

All this while Nora’s lungs have been hurting, frost curling around them and laboring her breath. But now, chems in hand, Nora feels as if she can breathe again.

* * *

The klaxon is still blaring as Nora heads back to the pod room, but Nora has no way of shutting it off. The wailing isn’t nearly as loud as some things; she can work around it. What gets to her is the silence underneath it, as her boots hit the cold cement and her footsteps echo around the room.

She’d checked the other pods on the way back, but the lights on the panels are all dead, buttons unresponsive. Her neighbors’ pods have been shut down, water leaking from them as they defrost. The smell is awful.

The pockets in the vault suit are deep and padded, cradling the chems. In her uninjured hand Nora has a baton, and she jangles it against her thigh. Nervous. Unsure. Scared.

Terrified.

She drops the baton and readies a Stimpak and hovers one hand over the button to release Nate’s pod door, fingers still shaking, still cold. Nora isn’t sure she can be quick enough.

Slamming the button, the door starts to raise slowly. Far too slowly. Cold mist seeps through the widening gap, and Nora ignores it as she jams her fingers under the door and throws her whole weight into forcing the hydraulics.

As soon as Nate’s body is in reach, Nora snakes her arm in and stabs him with the Stimpak, depressing the plunger as she pulls him towards her. Her leg muscles are still cold, shaking, and she nearly stumbles under the weight of her husband. But she doesn’t fall.

Nora pulls out the needle, dropping it to the floor, and lays a cold hand against Nate’s cheek. If she strains her ears she can just about pick up the strained sound of his breath. His blood is the warmest thing she’s felt in what seems like forever, seeping through her Vault suit.

Another Stimpak. Nora can feel his pulse under her fingers. His blood has stopped seeping, and when she puts her hand around Nate’s back, she finds it sticky, not slick. Good.

She can do this.

* * *

The giant cockroaches are no match for the rage Nora feels building back up within her, flowing through her. It still hurts her chest and she’s starting coughing; hacking up frost and blood. Not Good.

Across her shoulders Nate is motionless except for his swinging limbs. His breath huffs against Nora’s arm. His blood has cooled across her front and the back of her neck, chilling her even more. Her shakes aren’t just from anger.

There is more cockroach gunk up and down her legs, splatters of it across her face and on Nate as well. She’s swapped the baton for a neat 10mm, but more often she uses her boots. It’s the time tested method of cockroach extermination. Squash the bastards.

The Vault corridors all look the same, littered with debris. Pale, fluorescent lights flicker overhead, the white light washing everything out. Nora can see the veins under her skin. When she comes across the first skeleton Nora grinds to a halt, her mouth open.

Bones picked clean, white and gnawed. Clothes shredded and burnt. The roaches have eaten everything. Another thought about time and the explosion and _how long where they fucking frozen?_ flits through her mind. But Nora doesn’t stop again, stepping over the bones and stomping he cockroaches.

She only pauses in the Overseer’s office, shifting Nate onto her back as she bends over the terminal. Her cold fingers move over the keyboard sluggishly, and Nora feels her anger reach a boiling point, tipping over and dissipating, and she’s left feeling empty.

_Fucking Vault-tec._

She’s only glad that they’re all dead and gone, even if it means she can’t kill them herself for what they’ve done to her family. In a drawer is an old model pip-boy, it’s screen cracked. Nora clips it onto Nate’s wrist for safekeeping. The nuclear battery is still running, and it will tell her how long she’s been in that pod. But right now she doesn’t want to know.

Nora turns off the terminal with a noise of disgust.

She’s used to death. She’s a career soldier from a military family; she was raised on an army base, saw soldiers return from war injured, and attended funerals of those who didn’t. But that kind of death is a far cry to that which her neighbors suffered. Herded into those pods as the world exploded around them, then had their life support cut. They suffocated.

Nate’s breath huffs against her neck as Nora lowers him onto the Overseer’s chair. Nora is hesitant to use the last of the Stimpaks – she just doesn’t know what would be best. She isn’t a doctor, not even a field medic. Nate is.

But Nate is the one on the edge of death, with a hole through his chest.

Nora feels around the wound tentatively, rushing out a relieved breath when she finds a thick scab. At least he’s not bleeding anymore.

In the main chamber of the Vault a skeleton clings to the control panel, a buzzing pip-boy wired from his wrist to the console. Nora takes that as well, kicking the skeleton away afterwards.

She doesn’t know what will be out there. Irradiated bugs certainly, and she knows certainly that there are people out there, no matter how far away or how evil. And then there’s her son. Hers. Nate’s. Shaun.

At that moment, it doesn’t matter to Nora what could be out there. The knowledge that her son is missing, that she needs help if she’s to keep her husband alive, is enough to propel forward. Nate is heavy on her back.

Nora takes a deep breath, cocks her gun, then waits to meet the outside world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol pls do let me know what u think, i will always appreciate it even if it's just to tell me its shit  
> xx


	2. goddamn lizards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> concord is a goddamn mess, Nora finds.

The heat from his rifle is burning his hands. Even through the thick of his gloves he can feel the heat of it. He can hear it more though, the sharp humming of an overworked laser-core, but he can feel the waves of hot air rolling up and hitting his cheeks.

Preston thinks they may blister.

He continues firing anyway, hissing through his teeth as he dumps a spent cell over the railing of the balcony. A bullet splinters the wood above his head, and Preston ducks back inside the museum. The sounds of the fight aren’t lessened any – only added to by the commotion of the raiders inside the building as well.

His eyes flick over his companions – what’s left of them, _goddamn_. Mama Murphy passes him half a bottle of clean water, wrapping her gnarled hand around his. For a moment, a mere second, their eyes meet.

Mama Murphy’s eyes have always been foggy, ever since Preston first met her. He supposes they’ve always been like that: decades of chem abuse can harm the body in a plethora of ways. Preston is sometimes surprised she isn’t blind.

Yet in that moment, Mama’s eyes are sharp, hyper-aware. Jet, maybe. Preston hadn’t seen her take it.

“A little while longer, Preston,” she murmurs, so low that the others don’t hear, “Just hold on a lil’ while longer.”

A laser strike cracks through a gap in the door and Jun flinches. Violently. Sturges swears loudly. Preston can’t even bear to look at Marcy, can’t stomach the bitter hopelessness in her eyes.

Preston gives Mama a smile, one of his best. But he is tired, and this is a battle they’re losing. He can feel blood trickling down his leg, the wound a remnant from their flight from Lexington. His cheeks hurt when he moves them.

It isn’t his best smile anymore. Mama Murphy is too high to notice.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

* * *

If it wasn’t for the silence around them, Preston would have sworn he was hallucinating. But there it is; utter silence, and a soldier in the room with him.

Preston had nearly been sick when he saw her approach, bright and fresh, not worn like the raiders below. He’d barely been able to keep the stalemate going; reinforcements would end it quickly. But then she’d gunned down the first raider she’d come to, a single, clean shot through the skull. The same went for the next three, all of them taken by surprise and downed by a single bullet apiece.

He’d been stunned for a moment too long, and was shaken out of it by the smell of burning clothes as a rifle shot tore through his trousers.

The next few moments he feels as if he’s floating, far from his own body. He hadn’t expected to survive this firefight, and now he’s winning it. Preston almost thinks he understands what it’s like to be high; so utterly elated. Giddy.

The woman below moved with ruthless efficiency, tearing her way through the raiders in way that reminded Preston of a Deathclaw attack. They didn’t stand single a chance against her. Despite their numbers and their weapons, they were all slaughtered by a lone, pistol-wielding wanderer.

Preston shivered.

There was a dog snarling beside her, it’s fur coated in as much blood as it’s master. It had barked up at him, teeth bared, and the woman followed it’s direction, her pistol readied but not aimed. Preston had been too far away to see her clearly, and he knew he couldn’t judge her on her actions. This was the wasteland after all. No one gave without also taking.

But he could hope.

Preston remembers shouting down to her, but not what he says. It doesn’t matter much, because now she’s here, drenched in even more raider blood and staring at him, waiting for Preston to start talking.

It takes him a while; he’s tired, thoroughly worn-out, and riding on the last eddies of his victory. And he’s stunned. By a lot of things really, though thinking on too much of it will make him break into sobs right here and now.

But even the woman is almost too much to process by herself. Dark and sleek, even in her hideously vibrant Vault suit, Preston can feel danger rolling from her as if it’s a physical thing.

And she’s so _goddamn_ tall.

She stands to attention the same way Preston was taught to; hands folded behind her, back ramrod straight, rifle against her leg. She does it far better than he’s ever been able to. And Preston isn’t sure if he’s exaggerating, but she looks as if she’s as tall as a Super Mutant. He’s never seen someone so tall, not even among the fortified cities where meals are regular and actually have some nutritional value.

“I told ya,” Mama Murphy mutters, “Just needed to hold on a lil’ while longer.”

The dog moves towards Mama, it’s tail wagging heavily as it greets her. The woman lets it go without a word, her eyes still on Preston. It’s disconcerting.

“We’re grateful for the assistance, stranger.” Preston says, his best smile finally having some weight behind it. The woman nods, but she doesn’t smile in return. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t turned up when you did.”

Marcy hisses something acidic. Preston ignores it as best he can.

“My name’s Preston. Garvey. You’re looking at what remains of the Minutemen.”

The stranger’s eyebrows lower, a frown creasing her face momentarily. She looks over the five of them, her gaze even. Preston knows what she’s seeing; the pathetic remnants of something that could have been great. He doesn’t blame her scepticism. But she doesn’t show it on her face, at least. She doesn’t even look fazed.

“Kritikos.” She says. It sounds like a sneeze.

“What?”

“My name. Kritikos.” The woman repeats, slower. “Why the Minutemen?”

“Protect the people at a minute’s notice.” Preston nearly stumbles over his words, his mantra, but Kritikos nods.

“You lead them?”

“I’m trying. We’ve had raiders on our trail since… since Quincy, need to get to a safe place.” The words feel bitter in his mouth.

“Do you have a doctor?” Kritikos asks.

“Are you hurt?” Preston looks her over, but he can’t tell anything under the blood.

“No, but I know someone who is.”

“Jun used to run a drug store, I’m sure he could help.”

Jun barely raises his head at the sound of his name, curled next to his wife, hands over his head. It hurts Preston’s heart to look at him.

Kritikos nods. Wipes the blood from her cheek.

“You called them raiders? There’s more on the outskirts, I spotted them on my way into town.”

“Shit,” Preston swears softly, drowned out by Sturges’ louder cursing. “I can’t take them down by myself.”

“I know.”

He looks at Kritikos, takes in her cool, even stare. She’s not panicked or worried – not even at the thought of having to kill a dozen more raiders. Preston doesn’t even want to know how many she downed on her way up here. But he feels a wave of gratitude towards her – because of her calm, not despite it. She was willing to fight her way here on the chance that there may be a doctor, and Preston’s willing to put faith in the fact that she’ll protect them now that she’s got as good as.

Hope rises in him like a buoy.

“Sturges, tell her the plan.”

Kritikos listens carefully, her eyes on Sturges the whole time. She towers above him even more than Preston, but Sturges is too busy talking to notice. Kritikos listens, asks a few questions, then nods.

“Okay.”

* * *

 

Kritkos had taken Sturges up with her to the roof – she was too tall for the standard armour, she’d told Preston, and he’d readily believed her.

“You only need to get the gun for me,” she said, “I can carry it after that.”

Sturges had nodded, entirely nervous, but followed Kritikos down the wrecked hall anyways. It was his plan, after all. Mama Murphy had given them departing words, and the dog had whuffed after them. Sturges swallowed heavily, but Kritikos seemed not to notice. She told the dog to stay put.

Preston had pressed his face against the cool of the door frame as he watched them go. He wasn’t sure whether his cheeks were burnt, but they still hurt. His gun has cooled down, but his fingers ache from holding it. He takes to the balcony, waiting, and listening.

The screech of metal that comes from the mini-gun being retrieved seems to echo across the town. Shouts sound after it, voices coming from several buildings. Preston hadn’t seen the raiders arrive, but now he knows where they are.

He puts his crosshairs over the first head to pop up and squeezes the trigger.

Kritikos shouts for Sturges to go back inside, but the mechanic doesn’t reply. Anything else said is lost over the whir of the mini-gun.

The raiders seem to forget about him, concentrating on the biggest target instead. Tiles slide above his head, and Preston twists to look up just as Kritikos drops down beside him, landing in a neat crouch. All she has is the rifle and her pistol.

“Sturges has the armour.”

“Shit.”

Kritikos draws up next to him, rifle backed to her shoulder. She snipes one raider messily, frowning as his arm blows off instead of his head.

“He said he can handle it.”

“He’s a mechanic not a damn-”

Preston is cut off by a large boom as Sturges, still in the power armour, steps off the roof of the building and lands on the floor. The mini-gun blares to life, shredding through the closest raider.

“Huh.”

Sturges handles himself well, though the mini-gun doesn’t need much aiming when it comes to gunning people down. He’s helped by Preston and Kritikos, stationed on the balcony, taking out raiders who have the sense to hide from Sturges.

It’s going well. Then the Deathclaw comes along.

* * *

Inside the museum, Sturges very nearly fainted. Kritikos pulls him out of the armour quickly, passing him off to Preston. Sure, they’d dealt with the raiders well enough, but now there was a fully grown Deathclaw prowling outside.

They’d left Mama Murphy and the Longs back inside the top room, Kritikos racing ahead to fling the main doors open for Sturges’ retreat. Now Preston holds a shaking Sturges, trying to keep him from collapsing.

“You okay?” Preston asks quietly, and barely hears Sturges’ mumbled answer. His cheek is pressed into Preston’s shoulder.

“Garvey,” Kritikos cuts in, still calm, cool and collected. Preston still doesn’t know how she does it. He doesn’t think he wants to know. “Take him upstairs and reposition yourself on the balcony.”

Her words are quick and succinct, and Preston’s tired brain struggles to comprehend them.

“Okay, I can do that. But… what’re you gonna do?”

“I’m going to go back out there.”

Preston laughs, a desperate sound. The past hour feels as if it’s been a dream, and now morphing back into a nightmare. They can’t take down a Deathclaw. It takes a dozen men and rocket launchers to take down a Deathclaw.

Kritikos is no longer looking at Preston, instead busy ripping out the padding from within the suit. She uses her fingers, but when she can’t budge something she pulls out a hunting knife from within her boot. She pauses for a second, looking down and feeling around the small bag that’s strapped to her thigh. Kritikos pulls it free and tosses it towards Preston.

Then she goes back to stripping the power armour.

Preston loosens his hold on Sturges, who looks at what Kritikos is doing with sharp curiosity. He is less shaken now he has something to concentrate on.

“You can’t wear it without the support. If something hits you your bones will shatter.”

“I can’t wear it at all unless I make some space.”

“What parts are you removing?”

Preston tunes out the technical talk, instead sifting through the bag Kritikos had handed him. A few grenades, most homemade. He isn’t sure they’d damage the Deathclaw or just blow up in his face.

“You got a plan, Kritikos?” He asks, strapping the bag to his own leg.

Kritikos is quiet for a moment, manouvering herself into the too-small power armour. Both Preston and Sturges wince at how she has to hunch to get in there. Preston can’t see her face any more, but for the first time he hears an inflection in her voice. She’s angry.

“Yeah, Garvey. I’m gonna kill that goddamn lizard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as ever, thank u everyone for reading, and comments would be greatly appreciated :)


	3. goddamn chest wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate has never really spent much time mortally wounded, so perhaps he isn’t the one to judge, but so far he’s found it to be Pretty Fucking Awful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, sorry it's been a while since the last chapter i've been a bit busy with uni haha. but hopefully another 2k of angry swearing might make up for it lmao

Nate is a doctor. He knows his stuff – he graduated top of his class in Boston Medical (thank you very much), and it’s not like he hasn’t been practicing recently what with the war raging on. And, albeit, it’s been a while since he last supervised the surgery of a soldier on the front lines, he still has an awful lot of patients to contend with back home.

Anyway, it doesn’t take a genius to know that a bullet to the chest will probably, if not definitely, kill him. Of course, there’s always outliers – odd percentages and miracle cases. But as Nate watches his wife snarl from within her pod, feels the blood gushing down his front, hears his son wailing, Nate is pretty sure he won’t be one of them.

* * *

 It’s a bit of a surprise the first time he wakes up (if it can be called waking up. It’s more like being semi-conscious; half-asleep, barely there).  A lot of sounds filter through to his jumbled mind; gunfire, the skittering of rats and insects, the load groan of heavy machinery.

But through it all, the one thing he hears most is his wife.

Nora shouts and swears and stomps her way through wherever they are, and Nate is aware, vaguely, that he’s moving because Nora is carrying him. It’s with an odd sort of contentment that he realises that, at the very least, he will die as his wife is holding him.

Nate might have said something then, an odd mumble, but he can’t be sure. He’s back under pretty soon anyways.

* * *

Nate knows with a certainty that he’s always hated Sanctuary, and everything that came with it, but he hated Codsworth most of all. He’s smug, and annoying, and the constant whir of servos and gears really gets on his nerves. The stupid robo butler had been Nora’s parent’s idea. A gift to Nate and Nora as they moved from Nate’s apartment in the city to pleasant, dull suburbia. He knew it was a necessary move, and it was his plan from the start, but he still despised it in all its pleasant monotony.

_‘I’m not a housewife, Nathaniel. Don’t you dare fucking expect me to act like one.’_ Nora had snapped, her temper rising as it had done so many times since their son was born and they’d been shunted from the city into their perfect, dull little house.

_‘So what? We’re gonna have a tin-can look after our kid, huh?’_

_‘No, he’s going to help_ you _do it.’_

She’d ended the fight before it could become one, like she’d always done, exiting on legs longer than Nate’s. She clacked out the door in her dress blues, off to the office job she’d been forced into in lieu of the maternity leave she’d refused to take.

Nate had shouted after her, something vague and angry, and then Codsworth (and who the fuck had given him _that_ name) had floated into view. His stupid robot face was somehow still very smug, and Nate wanted very much to swing for him.

* * *

Nate isn’t sure if he’s dreaming of Codsworth for a reason, or if his mind is just running through his life as he slowly bleeds to death. Either way, it’s not much fun. He’d rather not die with that shitty tin-can limey wobbling about his brain.

Especially not when Codsworth reappears, creaking, rusted and talking to himself, around a splintered doorframe. Nate is almost sure that he’s awake right now, and the fact that Codsworth is actually in front of him is pissing him right off.

“Now, what was it Miss Leonora said? Don’t let him bleed out? I do hope I can manage that.”

Nate’s eyes are barely open, and he’s very tired, but he has just enough energy to scoff and roll his eyes before he passes out.

* * *

 There is a wet nose pressed to his cheek, something that Nate hasn’t felt in a long time. Not since the dog he’d picked up from the pound had bolted. Nate opens his eyes slowly, groggily, and looks down the snout of the German Shepherd lying next to him.

“Huh. ‘Lo dog.”

His voice is weak and feeble, and Nate is suddenly aware of how dry his throat is. The dog wuffs lowly in response, stretching itself out before rising. It pokes his head out of the doorway for barely a second before there’s the sound of footsteps.

“Oh, Nate – Mr Vega. You’re awake.”

Nate grunts and looks over at the small, nervous looking Asian man now taking up space in what seems to be a bedroom. It’s a very shitty bedroom. Nate is glad that it’s dark and he can’t see much.

“Is’ ‘Doc’r Vega,” Nate slurs, and frowns. He hasn’t been this drugged up in a good long while. If ever.

“Ah, Kritikos hadn’t told me that part, not that she’s told me much, but, erm. How are you feeling?”

The man is rambling and it makes Nate feel very tired. Nate blinks heavily, and the man swims in and out of focus.

“Who’s Krit’kos.” Nate frowns, thinking. “Oh, Nora. She’s Kri… kos.”

Nate yawns and winces a little bit. Tries not to think about why Nora would be using her maiden name all of a sudden.

“That’s what Codsworth calls her, um, sort of, but she introduced herself as Kritikos and I, well… I’m Jun by the way. I’ve been looking after you.”

Jun carries on talking, but Nate is very quickly slipping back into sleep. He just about manages to get out a garbled ‘hello, Jun’ before his eyes fully shut and he’s asleep again.

* * *

  _‘We should get a dog.’_

_‘Yeah, and who’ll walk it? I don’t have the time.’_

_‘I will. I’m not_ that _tired when I finish from the hospital, Nor.’_

_‘Sure you’re not.’_

_‘Okay fine. If I’m too tired I’ll get your horrible robot man to walk it, how’s that?’_

_‘Do what you want, Nate, but I’m not cleaning up any shit.’_

* * *

  _‘You actually got a dog.’_

_‘I said I was going to, didn’t I?’_

_‘You say a lot of things, Nate. Like how you were gonna fix the back door.’_

_‘Eh, I’ll get to it. Come play with me an’ the kid. We’re taking the dog to the park.’_

* * *

_‘Where’s the mutt.’_

_‘Bastard ran off.’_

_‘Well shit.’_

_‘Yeah.’_

_‘You’re not getting another one.’_

* * *

 The dog Nate had picked up had been a scraggly, three legged creature with only a few stubby teeth. He’d seen it at the pound and had felt so sorry for it that Nate had walked past all the other, more attractive dogs and took the tri-legged mongrel instead. Later, he’d reasoned with Nora that the dog couldn’t do any damage to the house if it was only gums, and it should be safe to play with Shaun when he got a bit older.

Then the fucker ran away, and Nora had smirked for a whole week while Nate sulked about it.

That dog had looked nothing like the sleek, shiny Shepherd still lying next to him. Nate stretches out a heavy hand and pats the dogs fur, and it looks at him with bright, curious eyes. This time it barks loudly, presumably summoning back Nervous Jun. Nate rolls his head to look at the door way, squinting his eyes against the sunlight.

The bedroom almost looks like his and Nora’s.

Codsworth is the first through the doorway, and for a single moment Nate rather wishes that he was dead. Him or the robot, at this point he’s not picky.

“Oh, Mister Nathaniel! How good it is to see you awake! Miss Leonora has been ever so worried.”

Nate grunts and searches for Jun, who’s quick on Codsworth’s stupid, floating heels.

“Dr Vega,” Jun stammers, “You look better.”

“How long’ve I been asleep?” Nate questions, coughing around his dry throat. Jun’s answer is cut off by Codsworth producing a bottle of water with a flourish and presenting it to Nate. Jun mumbles something as he helps Nate sit up, and Nate’s lungs constrict for a moment and he tries to breathe around the healing hole in his chest.

“A week, give or take. You’d already been down a day or two by the time Kritikos – Leonora – found us in Concord.”

“You the one who fixed me up?” Nate asks after taking a sip of cool water.

“Yes. You just needed some stitches and a few Stimpaks. How’s the pain?”

“Manageable. Just about.”

“You’re pumped full of Med-X, that’s why.”

Nate huffs a laugh, and lets his head fall back against the wall he’s propped up one. Then he frowns.

He’s in his own bedroom.

“Oh, fuck me.” He whispers. The bombs, the Vault. Shaun. All of it comes back to him in a thunderous tide of horrible memories. “Fuck. Me.”

“Codsworth,” He snaps, “Where’s Nora?”

“In the Vault, sir.” The robot replies, eye swivelling about. Jun suddenly looks even more nervous than before.

“The _Vault_? Why the fuck is she back in that goddamn Vault? Jun, help me up!”

“Uh, Mr – Doctor Vega- sir, I don’t think-”

“If you move too much, Master Nate, you will tear your stitches, and the carpets are already ruined! I ran out of Abraxo decades ago!”

The statement stuns Nate for a moment, and he physically reels back. His panic over Nora mixing with a rush of so many things it makes him dizzy.

“ _Decades_ …? What?” His moment of stillness gives Jun enough time to lean forward and jab him with a syringe. “Jun! What the _fuck_!”

“Sorry! But Kritikos told me to look after you, and you’re getting agitated!”

Already, Jun’s face is starting to swim before Nate’s eyes. He reaches a hand to feel where the needle had got him and scowls.

“Jun, you… _bastard_. You… absolute… bas…tard,”

In the moment before he passes out, Nate swears that the next time he’s awake, he’s gonna kick Nervous Jun’s ass.

* * *

Nora was a born soldier. Nate had learnt that within the first week of joining her company, back when she had been First Lieutenant Kritikos. She was already decorated back then, on her way to becoming the US’s poster girl for the Armed Forces. Nora was strong, beautiful, a good fighter and a great leader of men. She was XO of a Company that was small but loyal and fierce, and she led them in and out of conflicts with ruthless efficiency.

Quite frankly, she’d scared the shit out of Nate.

Back then he was an unseasoned conscript, constantly in the way. He was a good doctor, and quick on his feet, but he’d never handled such bloody triages before. Never been to war before. His profession gave him a rank, but he knew the moment he pulled on it he’d probably get pummelled.

Then the Company’s Chief Medical Officer had died in a skirmish, caught by a stray grenade as they dragged wounded from the field. Nate had had to step up to the plate, had to start attending meetings with the Company leaders, the jovial Captain, Lieutenant Kritikos, and some others. He found out quickly that he was more opinionated than the last CMO, more willing to square up to the Lieutenant over issues he had fault with (even though by then he’d not only seen her half naked and was still shit-scared of her).

Nate isn’t sure when she’d moved from ‘LT’ to ‘Kritikos’ to ‘Leonora’, or even when she stopped barking at him and he’d become ‘Nate’ rather than ‘Dr. Vega’.

But, as he learnt, this are always more intense on the battlefield. After a few months he didn’t even bother going back to his quarters at night. He stayed with Nora instead, and in the day time he treated the wounded, compiled fatality reports and injury statistics and tried not to die himself.

Then his tour was over, and Nate thought he’d never see Lieutenant Kritikos again.

* * *

 There is a hand in his hair, fingers running through it, blunt nails scratching lightly as his scalp. Nate turns towards the sensation like it’s a reflex, pushing himself closer to the hand. His face bumps into something soft and covered, and he hears a soft huff of almost-laughter that could only come from Nora.

Her fingers move to stroke the weeks’ worth of beard growth on Nate’s face, rubbing the short bristles against the grain. Nate opens his eyes as Nora curls a hand around his jaw, looking up at her. His head is pressed to Nora’s thigh, and she looks at Nate, with soft, sad eyes. Her face is bruised and there is a sharp cut through her eyebrow.

Nate remembers everything that happened. Everything. His jaw trembles and he closes his eyes against the tears that threaten to come. Nora’s breath is even as she moves to lie next to him, pulling Nate onto her chest and cradling him to her.

She smells like blood and the sharpness of laser fire.

“How long, Nora? Codsworth said _decades_.”

Nate can feel Nora’s shaking inhalation. She’s always been collected, his soldier-wife, but not even Nora can take a nuclear war with a straight face.

“Leonora, how _long_?”

“Two hundred and ten years, Nate.”

Nate makes a horrible, pained noise, and Nora’s arms tighten around him in response.

“Did… did anybody else…?”

“No. Ours were the only pods still working.”

Nate tries to nod, but he can’t figure out the movement. He feels as if he’s just taken a sledgehammer to the brain. He’s trying to make sense of what Nora’s telling him, trying to straighten it all out in his mind, but he just keeps circling around the fact that everyone is _dead_. Their son is _gone_.

“Shaun?”

“I don’t know,” Nora’s voice is shaky, and her fingers curl into Nate’s arms in a way that’s almost painful. “I don’t know, Nate, but we’ll get him back. We’ll get him back.”

But Nate has lost all ability to talk. The painkillers have finally worn off, and his son has been stolen, and the whole fucking _world_ that he knew was blown to shit.

So, instead of replying, Nate sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as ever as always, pls do lemme know if u enjoyed the fic, and if u have any criticisms ty an thanks for reading


	4. goddamn marital disputes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nate stands up straight for the first time in a week and he and nora have a tiff about the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey gang, im super sorry for how slow/bad at updating i am. id blame real life but honestly I'm just bit Shit lmao.

Nora is sat in the converted garage with Sturges, talking over their water issues and the logistics of salvaging all the items she and Garvey had listed in the Vault. In one hand she has a bowl of dubious looking ‘mutfruit’ soup, and with the other she fiddles with the pip-boy on her lap. Her damp hair hangs heavy down her back, and her skin is pink from scrubbing. It had taken a lot of water to get all the blood off – all of it okayed by the silent Geiger counter in the pip-boy.

The warm afternoon sun filters through the cracks and holes in the metal roof, glinting off the power-armour in it’s frame. In a clear patch of field Jun and Mama Murphy poke around in the dirt planting seeds. Inside the ramshackle house Marcy and Garvey talk quietly over the cooking pot as Marcy tries to bring some life to the hellish soup.

“The beds would be the best thing to bring out, I think,” Sturges comments, mouth full of his own soup. He doesn’t seem to mind the flavour, but then he’s had more than a few days to get used to it. “Give these folks somewhere nice to sleep at night.”

“What about the weapon systems? There might be more of those lizards out there.” Nora comments, lifting her gaze from the pip-boy to look at Sturges. His eyes are distant, concentrating. He’s probably already thought of a dozen ways to strip the entirety of the living quarters of the Vault. (Nora tries to hide a wince at the thought of anywhere in that Vault being for _living_ ). 

“Eh, don’t think that’ll be a problem up here-”

“Master Nathaniel! I really don’t think that this is a good idea! Please, sir, wait! _Miss_ _Leonora_!”

Nora is on her feet in a second, her stew bowl handed off to Sturges. He whistles lowly through his teeth as Nora strides across the cracked road to her dilapidated house to meet her highly-strung robot and her misbehaving husband.

Nate rounds the doorway, blanket around his shoulders and a fierce look of concentration on his face. Behind him Codsworth flutters about, his shuttering bug-eye conveying his nervousness. Nate leans heavily on the door-frame, looking up at Nora through a curtain of dark, reddish hair. His eyebrows pull heavily downwards, casting his eyes into shadow.

“You should be in bed.” Nora says simply, crossing her bare arms across her chest.

“Fuck you,” Nate scoffs, “I’m the doctor here.”

“You’re also the one with the hole in his chest.”

“Uh, actually, no one here has a hole in their chest, thanks to _las drogas_ Jun keeps feeding me.” Nate’s tone is snippy and sharp, and it’s almost like speaking to a stroppy teenager. His tiredness is having an effect on his accent as well as his mood, curling his words. Nora stamps down the urge to roll her eyes, reminds herself – for the millionth time during their marriage – that Nate is a civilian. Yes, he’s seen combat, but he wasn’t trained for it like she was. He doesn’t have the capacity to cope with things as she does.

“Even so, Master Nate, Mister Jun _clearly_ said-” Codsworth catches the _look_ Nora aims his way and grinds to a halt. “Ah, I shall go and, um, vacuum the drapes.”

Nate and Nora snort at the same time, and Nate grumbles under his breath about ‘ _that damn, fucking robot’_.

“Maybe you’re not holey, but you’re still not well, _amor_ ,” Nora keeps her words soft, leans forward to pull Nate away from the doorway. Nate narrows his eyes, but takes her hand. There is a slight tremor running down his arm, ending in his cool, clammy fingers.

“You’re managing me,” Nate huffs, letting himself be drawn towards her. Nora nods absently, wrapping an arm around her husband’s waist.

“Babe, I’ve been managing you since the day we _met_.”

Nate laughs, and Nora slowly leads him towards Sturges, trying to warm up his hand with her own. Struges shifts in his place as he watches them approach, making space for all of them on the edge of the carport. Nate sits heavily, pulls the blanket tight around him.

“Nate, this is Sturges. Sturges, Nate.”

“Charmed.” Sturges grins, wide and pleasant. He glances between them, “Hey, Kritikos, I’m gonna go ask Marcy for some more stew, be back in a jiff.”

“Thanks, Sturges.”

The mechanic makes a quick exit. He’s certainly less scared of Nora after a few days knowing her, but everyone is Sanctuary is still wary after the way she’d cleared out Concord. There’s something about punching a Deathclaw to death that inspires awe, apparently.

Inside the house, Garvey and Marcy fall silent as Sturges joins them. Mama Murphy and Jun are too fair away to notice.

“Why’s everyone calling you ‘Kritikos’? Did we get divorced without me knowing?” Nate’s question is soft and amused in a careful way. Nora laughs quietly.

“Oh?” Nate’s smile widens at the sound, the uncertainty leaving him. They may have only been married a little while, but they’ve known each other a long time.

Nora lays a palm across her husband’s well-stubbled cheek, pushing it backwards to meet with his thickly coiled hair, then kisses him, starting with the gentlest brush of their lips together. Nate leans into it, and brings a cold hand up to cradle Nora’s face. Nate makes a soft noise into her mouth, and Nora responds by carefully curling her hand into his hair.

He opens his mouth and Nora pulls away, smiling. Rests their foreheads together. Breaths mingling.

“Captain, that’s not a very good way to avoid a question.”

“It always works with _you_.”

“Do I wanna know who else you’ve tried it on?”

“Eh, no one important.”

Nora shifts so Nate can lean his bulk on her shoulder. He may not be as tall as her, but Nate certainly beat Nora in terms of sheer mass. Nora’s hand idly works its way through her husband’s hair.

“It made sense, at the time,” Nora begins, and Nate is content just to listen, “My brain was going a mile a minute, and I didn’t have anyone to make sense of it with. You were barely hanging on. I was running on fumes and thin, scraps of information.”

She can feel Nate nod and the flutter of his eyelashes against her neck.

“The man… the people that took Shaun, they knew where to look for us, knew how to find us.” Nate’s breath stutters at the sound of their son’s name. It helps Nora concentrate, the fact that she’s got someone to hold, to comfort. The fact that Nate makes no effort to hide his emotion means that Nora has an easier time forcing down her own. She’s got someone else to concentrate on.

“I ran through the Vault’s listing on the way out of there; ‘Doctor Vega, Nathaniel. Captain Vega, Leonora. Vega, Shaun (infant).’” She recites, “When I go after them, they’ll be expecting a Vega, not a Kritikos.”

Nate pulls away, a sharp frown on his face.

“When _you_ go after them?”

“Nate…”

Nora tries her hardest not to let her face go flat. She’s known ever since they met that Nate hates it when her ‘soldier-face’ comes out.

With one hand still clutching the blanket around his shoulders, Nate uses the other to gesticulate wildly.

“You honestly think you’re gonna go out there by your-fucking-self? Am I just gonna stay in this shit-hole with my thumb up my ass til’ you get back, huh? Who knows what’s even _out_ there!

“ _I_ know what’s out there, and I need you here _safe_ from it.

“Oh, right. I bet Nervous Jun’s been telling you everything there is to know about post-nuclear Massachusetts and how I’m to goddamn fucking _fragile_ to handle it.” Nate snaps. Nora pushes herself away from the carport, ignoring the way her damp hair whips after her. She doesn’t raise her voice.

“No, babe, I’ve already been out there. What, you thought that these people were here just waiting for us outside the Vault?” She snorts derisively, and Nate’s expression hovers between horrified and furious. “I hiked to Concord, killed a dozen or more mercenaries and a fucking _mutant lizard_ on the sheer chance that they might have a doctor with them – so he could save your goddamn fucking, _fragile_ life.” Her words are harsh and biting, but Nate has known her long enough to see through to the panic and worry underneath.

Nate’s fury grinds to a halt, and he says flatly, “What.”

“Yeah. You should see the fucking cockroaches.” She sighs, glad that the first round is over. Nora pushes her hair back, says softly: “The world has well and truly gone to shit, Nate.”

“A… mutant _lizard_.”

“They call it a Deathclaw.”

Nate hisses his breath through his teeth. His knuckles are white where they grip the threadbare blanket to him.

“You fought one?”

Nora nods and waves a hand towards the power armour. “Had to squeeze into that T-45 just to get close without being shredded.”

Nate winces, “No wonder your face is so-”

“Thanks, babe.” Nora snorts and Nate pulls a face. His features then soften as Nate opens his blanket and gestures for her to join him.

“Fitting you into a T-45 is a dangerous thing to do.” Nate comments, intimately aware of the dimensions of his wife and that of standard armour. “The lack of dampening could have shattered you.”

Shrugging, Nora settles next to her husband, clasping their left hands together and looking at their wedding rings next to each other.

“I needed to get Jun back to you, and I’m not willing to risk his work out in the Commonwealth.”

“That’s not a choice you get to make,” Nate replies simply. “I know we’re losing time, and that every second our son gets further away, but give me a day or two and I’ll be fine to come with you, I promise.”

They’re quiet for a little while. There’s things Nate needs to know, things Nora needs to tell him, things they need to talk about if he really is going to venture out with her into the wilds. But right now she doesn’t want to set him off again.

At that moment Struges appears, no doubt having deemed it safe to come out of the house. He has a fresh bowl of stew in his hand, and only pauses for a second when Nora raises an eyebrow at him.

“Hey, Kritikos, thought I’d give you two some space to, uh, sort things out.”

Nora nods and Nate says a soft ‘thanks, man’ as he takes the stew. His face when he looks inside the bowl is an absolute picture.

“You, um, all keyed up an’ sorted to leave then, Kritikos?” Sturges asks, leaning against the carport’s support pillar. Nora can see him trying his hardest not to watch as Nate pokes at his food in confusion and a little disgust.

“Mhm, in a few days, yeah.” Nora has no such problem, and watches her husband with a smirk.

“Thought you wanted to leave as soon as the Doc woke up?”

Nora levels Sturges with an unimpressed look at the same time Nate gives her one with slightly more bite.

“There’s been a change of plan,” Nora says, raising her eyebrows, “As you probably heard.”

Sturges’ cheeks flood with colour, and the gossip-monger stammers a few words before fleeing back inside. Nate snorts around a mouthful of soup, then swallows it with a grimace.

“So you’ve decided you’re gonna bring me along, then?”

Nora huffs and smiles at him, and he returns it – despite the weight on both of their minds.

“Well, we’ve been together two-hundred-and-fourteen years, Nate. Gotta keep that record going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> expect the next chapter sometime next year  
> i joke i joke

**Author's Note:**

> admittedly, this is my first foray into Fallout fanfic, so i would appreciate any feedback at all, especially relating to the universe.  
> But anyways! there's the first chapter, i'm working on the second but do expect sporadic updates lol.  
> thank you for reading :)


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